


By Happenstance A Villain

by aldiara



Category: Alles was zaehlt
Genre: Alles was zählt - Freeform, Angst, Character Study, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-01
Updated: 2010-10-01
Packaged: 2017-10-12 08:37:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/122992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aldiara/pseuds/aldiara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deniz watches Roman and Vanessa. (ep 463)</p>
            </blockquote>





	By Happenstance A Villain

He’s come, like so often before, to apologise, unsure of what to say but prepared to talk his mouth fuzzy and grovel at her feet; but Vanessa is not alone.

From where he’s stopped dead near the entrance, heart suddenly hammering in his throat, Deniz can see them clearly across the pool, framed by the round ‘O’ of the open alcove in which Vanessa sits with drooping shoulders, Roman crouched in a casual squat beside her. As he watches, Vanessa raises the tub of ice cream in her lap a little, cocking a questioning eyebrow, and Roman smiles, nodding.

In his head, Deniz sees them all the time, in all the moments in which they’ve had the shaping of him this past year. Between them, these two people currently hold all the tangled strings that define his life; but he’s never seen them, or indeed thought of them, in any configuration of which he was not the centrepiece.

Yet here they are, having excised him like a malignant growth, and looking like any two people on recovery: a little peaked and tender, but not, ultimately, demolished by the loss of him.

It hurts. He didn’t imagine it would hurt like this. It’s Roman all over, but ten times worse; not because losing Vanessa devastates him more but because he’s losing them both, all at once, all over, every way. Seeing them here like this, like friends, makes him feel all too keenly that he’s lost any chance of even that.

In his head, he sees them all the time, but not like this: heads bowed together over the tub of ice cream in rueful but companionable silence. There’s only one spoon, so Vanessa alternates, awkwardly, between putting it in her own mouth and offering it to Roman, who snaps the ice cream up with a dip of his head, quick and graceful as a swan. One time Vanessa misses, smearing ice cream on Roman’s chin instead; they both look surprised for a moment, then giggle like a pair of first graders while Roman wipes it off.

Deniz stares, the smell of chlorine sharp in his nose and his head heavy with sodden warmth. The pool seems like a trite cliché of the pit that separates them: the two of them, framed in light by that circle, and him, lurking in semi-darkness, churned by envy and regret.

He is by happenstance the villain in this act of three, and still has no idea how it happened. They wanted him; he acquiesced. It isn’t his fault that what they wanted isn’t what he has to give.

Deniz has always felt compelled by being wanted; it goes back as far as he can remember, when his parents kept telling him that nothing was his fault, that they still wanted him and always would, reassuring him even as they both backed away from him: his father halfway across the country, his mother into the cool recesses of a life he had no part in. It continued as he grew up, giving in to anyone who showed an interest, because that was the only way he could think of to make them stay. He’s learned they don’t, though; they’ll tell you that they want you when what they mean is the useless, pretty parts of you: as soon as they discover that glitter is all you have to offer, they will leave. It isn’t his fault that his glamour works too well for them to see that what’s behind it is not a thing that anyone in their right mind could want.

He’s never learned to balance this strange juxtaposition of desire and desertion any way other than to pass it on, but neither does he know how to handle repercussions.

Even now he knows that merely to blame his parents is not enough; that it’s in him, some elemental flaw he can’t comprehend, that always makes him say, at first, _No, it’s too difficult_ , then, _Yes, you can have me_ , and later, _I am sorry_. He knows it’s not enough but at the same time it’s all he has to offer, this useless triptych of refusal, come hither and regret. He doesn’t know how to handle want like these two have shown him: wanting the whole of him, and wanting him for good. He’s never known want to be something real, something lasting.

Across the pool, the man and the girl who loved him smile at each other. It’s startling to see the same smile on two so very different faces: a brief but sweet smile, sincere with wry sorrow and a mutual understanding that excludes him utterly, despite his role in why they sit together, sharing pain.

It strikes him, then, as powerfully as loving either of them ever has, that these two will likely be alright: Vanessa, who cradles her hurts close to her heart in secret, and Roman, who flaunts his with proud defiance for all the world to see. They’ve wanted him and found him wanting; turns out all he had to give them, in the end, was a lesson that he doesn’t understand himself. They’ll be alright, and the knowledge of that twists in his gut with sudden panic: because if they can be alright without him, then where does that leave him?


End file.
